


Together

by Solemnly_Swear (Fitzsimmonsx)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (so much angst), Arthur being oblivious, But there’s a good ending I promise, Comfort/Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 01:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzsimmonsx/pseuds/Solemnly_Swear
Summary: Merlin is struggling with what he has seen about Mordred and Arthur; Arthur notices and finally steps up.(aka the one where Merlin is not okay, but neither are any of them, so maybe he and Arthur can be not-okay together?)





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Another one I found in my notes and finished up. If you don’t know about Mordred and Arthur, do not continue! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! :)

Merlin is tired. Not simply exhausted, or even the heavy feeling that comes with battles and (repeatedly) saving Arthur’s life. Instead, it’s a dark, empty feeling. It pulls at Merlin through breakfast, through the battles and the blood and the toasts to victory.

And the worst part is that Merlin wants it. If he could, he would welcome it with open arms, sink into the emptiness and fade away.

But Arthur is going to die, and Merlin must save him. (Isn’t that how it always goes?) Except this time, there’s no obvious rescue, no troll in disguise to kill or evil curse to break. Mordred is cunning, a sorcerer in the very inner circle of Arthur Pendragon- Merlin would find it ironic if he could still dredge up any humor about the situation. Arthur trusts Mordred. As if that’s not bad enough, he seems to care about him. Arthur treats him as the son he wishes he had been to Uther- he teaches him dueling maneuvers, praises him, gives him respect and space to grow.

There are days where Merlin feels the urge to tell Arthur. They are alone in his chambers at night, or side by side at the fire, and there is a peculiar silence between them. Not darkly empty, but waiting to be filled. Merlin takes in the slight slump in his posture, the far-away look in his eyes, and lets the moment pass. Arthur isn’t meant to know. And so Merlin carries on as he always has, taking the burden solely on his own shoulders and trampling the twinges of regret.

There are other days, too. The bad days. Merlin hates them with a ferocity reserved only for the desperate, but they are unstoppable. They are the days when Arthur duels Mordred, teaching him, and Merlin watches.

He’s always watched, but now it’s a different kind. There are two visions in his head, one layered over the other. There’s Arthur, grimacing in concentration and lunging, disarming Mordred with a smile and extending a hand. But there’s also Arthur, standing still. Arthur’s eyes, dark with understanding and then pain as he is stabbed by the very man he has placed so much trust in. Mordred looks on, eyes cold- but then Arthur is slapping Mordred on the shoulder and sheathing his sword, and Mordred grabs Arthur’s extended hand to get up.

“Merlin?” Arthur says as the two get closer. “Are you going to get us dinner or just sit there like an idiot?”

Merlin is too silent. He knows it, but he can still see Arthur’s blood on the ground, the defeated way he collapses to his knees. He nods towards the ground and mumbles “I’m going now.”

A hand on his arm stops him, and Merlin flinches, his whole body going tense.

He turns, sure he’s going to see Mordred, but it’s worse. Arthur is looking at him with concern evident in his eyes, but Merlin can only see the betrayal of the vision. His mind flips between the two, a morbid collage of heavy silence and blue eyes, and Merlin forces himself to look down.

“I’m fine,” he says.

Arthur lets go slowly, his hand brushing Merlin’s jacket and landing at his side. “Who said you weren’t fine?” he asks, voice low. “I was just going to ask if you could help Mordred here with his armor, too. Seems to me it’s the least we could do for him.”

Merlin laughs without humor and looks Arthur in the eyes- Arthur is confused of course. He doesn’t know the joke.

“Of course, sire. I’ll just add that to the rest of my chores.”

“Fine.” Merlin doesn’t look, but he knows there’s a frown on Arthur’s face. He turns as if he’s going to make his way back towards the castle.

3.2. 1. “And Merlin?”

He stops, letting out a weary breath. “Yes, sire?”

“Stay when you bring my dinner up tonight. I want your opinion on something.”

Something like surprise makes its way through the tiredness. He’s been dropping off Arthur’s food and then leaving for the evening, something that Arthur’s had no objections about. He’d hardly thought Arthur had noticed his absence, and this inadvertent admission makes Merlin nod before he leaves.

Arthur’s chambers are silent in the darkness of the evening. Arthur is still not back from his meeting with the knights- Merlin leans back in his seat at the table and takes a moment to think.

Morgana has been unusually silent for the last month or so. There’s no doubt in Merlin’s mind that she’s planning something, but he can’t bring himself to worry about the sorceress. He’s seen Arthur’s death now. It plays across the backs of his eyelids when he closes his eyes, and it’s not Morgana who kills Arthur. It’s Mordred. Morgana can execute whatever twisted plot she’s crafted over the last few months, but in the end, it’s not up to her. Her place in Arthur’s fate, however notorious, has as much place in Arthur’s death as Merlin does. As hard as it is to accept, Arthur will die by Mordred’s hand unless Merlin can kill Mordred himself, and Morgana has no place in any of it.

Gaius, of course, has debated Merlin’s line of thought. They aren’t thinking much in line these days- there’s something about all this that has twisted Merlin, made him feel harsh and desperate. When Gaius speaks of the past, Merlin blocks it out because he can’t endure this if he lets himself waver. The only certainty he has is that Arthur cannot die. He must live to bring Camelot to even greater heights. That is the fate Merlin has always known for Arthur, and he refuses to accept that he has been bringing Arthur towards a fate of early death and betrayal.

The door to the chambers creaks open and Merlin shuts his thoughts back in.

Arthur looks exhausted, too. There is a slump in his shoulders when he heads toward the side of the chambers to strip off the chain mail. When he emerges from behind the screen, he looks as weighed down as he had before changing. Merlin wonders vaguely if he carries himself the same way (if they all do).

“Merlin,” Arthur acknowledges, along with a tired nod. He slumps down into a seat next to Merlin and pulls the food toward him, not pausing to see if Merlin has eaten.

There is a strange sort of comfort in the moment. Arthur is shoveling food into his mouth, his shirt sleeves loose and light unlike the heavy chain mail that is now his constant companion. The chambers are silent, but in a companionable way. Merlin’s chest tightens as he remembers the past, exactly the way he has been avoiding with Gaius.

They’ve spent so much time in here, he realizes. Countless hours spent arguing over Merlin’s chores. Merlin waking Arthur up every morning. Arthur finding a way at any given moment to send an object flying towards Merlin’s head.

Merlin looks up at Arthur and is shocked to find Arthur already staring at him. His gaze is analyzing, but not expectant. It shakes Merlin more than it should.

“Thinking? Don’t try too hard,” Merlin says lightly.

Arthur leaves the bait and frowns at Merlin.

“What is it?” He asks Merlin finally. “What aren’t you telling me?”

It’s a straightforward question, but there is no straightforward answer for Merlin. He’s passed that point years ago- in fact, his first week in Camelot, when he was appointed Arthur’s manservant and failed to mention his ability to perform magic for fear of being executed.

Of course, that isn’t what Arthur means now. Merlin knows instinctively that it’s not that, but the rest is... complicated. Arthur can’t know, and that’s the end of it.

“Nothing,” Merlin says, and pauses. It’s time to sink into his joker role- it doesn’t quite fit him anymore, but he knows his lines. “You didn’t even ask if I’d eaten. Perhaps I’d like some of your dinner, too.”

Arthur’s moment comes and goes, and Merlin feels off-balance. They’ve strayed from the script now. Arthur was supposed to make a condescending comment about Merlin or throw something at him, but he’s still staring at Merlin like Merlin is a complicated sword maneuver he can’t quite work out.

“Here,” Arthur says abruptly. Merlin looks down and finds with not a small amount of shock that Arthur has pushed his remaining food towards Merlin.

“It was-“

“A joke, I know. But-“ Arthur hesitates, then shakes his head and forges on. “You’re not eating enough, Merlin. You’re not sleeping enough, either, and you hardly ever smile. It’s been three weeks since I’ve last seen you smile.”

Merlin is shaken. “Maybe I just don’t smile around you,” he replies, more sharply than he meant to.

Arthur ignores him. “Gaius has seen it, too. We’re worried, Merlin. You can tell me what’s going on. We’re friends.” The look on his face says differently. There’s a desperation in the way he’s staring at Merlin, pleading with him in a way Arthur himself never would.

“I’m fine. Just stressed. We all are.”

“No, there’s more to it. Merlin, what the hell is going on?” Arthur’s chair groans against the floor as he stands. His arms are tense, the muscles straining from where he’s pushed himself up from the table.

“Sit down,” Merlin finally says, exhausted. Arthur looks around, as if he hadn’t even realized he stood up, but the familiar stubbornness makes its way onto his face.

“Get up, Merlin,” he says. Then, with more force, “Stand up.”

Merlin does so warily, pushing away from the table, and Arthur moves to stand in front of him.

“Merlin,” he starts. “Congratulations. Tomorrow will be your first day off.”

Merlin starts, almost visibly. “I’m fine-“

“I’m not having you dismissed, Merlin. Clearly you need some time off.”

Merlin examines Arthur’s face for any hint of a joke, but there is only grim intent in his expression. Years ago, even months ago, Merlin would have been overjoyed at such an opportunity. But times have changed, and Merlin now understands that there is no such thing as a day off for him. He has to be at Arthur’s side, or-

“You’ll die,” Merlin breathes, eyes still on Arthur’s face. “Mordred is going to kill you.”

Arthur’s eyes flicker over Merlin’s face, first in confusion and then understanding.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” He speaks quietly. Merlin is sure he wouldn’t be able to hear him if he weren’t this close.

“The seer- in the cave-“

“I know. It’s alright, Merlin.” But there’s worry in Arthur’s eyes, and Merlin can practically see the thoughts running through his head.

“It will happen,” Merlin says. “Unless Mordred dies-“

Arthur closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “Are you sure? Could it have been someone else?”

Merlin senses the words Arthur hasn’t said. _Anyone_ _else_. He takes a breath. “Arthur. It was him. I saw his face.”

Merlin can see Arthur going into denial. It’s what he does best- Arthur faces things straight on, no pretense or overcomplicated strategy. Merlin can see it already- Arthur will confront Mordred, and then Mordred will kill him, and it will all be because-

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice sounds alarmed. “Merlin, are you alright?”

He should have expected it, really, but he still jolts into full consciousness when cold water splashes over his head.

He sputters, glaring up at Arthur. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says vehemently, not that he expects it to make a difference. But now Arthur is looking at him differently- no more planning or denial or the momentum with which he always takes action, Merlin watching helplessly as it happens.

He looks tired instead, as if he has been shocked out of his frantic thoughts as effectively as the cold splash of water has shocked Merlin out of his own.

“You keep doing that,” Arthur says. He sounds frustrated, of all things.

“Doing what?”

“Drifting off,” Arthur says. “It’s as if you’re somewhere else.”

Merlin is tired of it all. Arthur is oblivious even after Merlin has bared it all (well, almost all)- he doesn’t want to explain the images he has burned into his subconscious, the nightmares that have kept him from sleep for weeks and stolen his appetite.

But Arthur isn’t understanding and Merlin hates it suddenly. It’s always on his shoulders: save Arthur, watch Arthur play-fight with Mordred. Bring Mordred food and bring Arthur food and pretend that everything’s alright, that Merlin’s world won’t end with Arthur’s death.

There’s an angry tightness in his throat, thinking about it. He has been the clumsy loyal servant for so long, but somehow, Arthur has become so much more than just the prince (and then the king). Arthur is Merlin’s everything, and it’s horribly unfair that Arthur has no clue and never will.

“As if I’m somewhere else?” Merlin finally asks, finding his voice, unsteady as it may be. “I watched you die, Arthur.” He feels detached, watching the expression on future-Arthur’s face over and over, falling and bleeding and through it all, the betrayal.

There’s a hot wetness on his cheeks, and then the brush of skin against skin.

Merlin realizes with a start that he is crying and that Arthur is wiping the tears away. His heart stammers in his chest- when he looks up, Arthur looks clueless but determined. Like he has no idea what he’s doing, but he would defend it with his life. It’s so typical of him that Merlin feels his mouth curving up at the edge- Arthur’s thumb swipes away another tear and then moves to Merlin’s lips, tracing that slight curve as if it is everything.

“We’re going to figure this out, Merlin,” he says firmly. “You don’t have to worry.” It’s the same voice he uses with the knights, the kingly voice- but the look in his eyes is Merlin’s alone. He’s looking at Merlin the same way Merlin has looked at Arthur, secretly- when Arthur is at his desk, writing, or when he’s commanding his men. Merlin shakes himself out of his thoughts and looks away.

“Will we?” Merlin murmurs darkly. He is too tired to let go of his resignation. It’s the only thing he’s been holding between himself and the deep, endless chasm that stretches in front of him- if he gives in to the hope Arthur is extending, he has a feeling he will topple right over the edge at the slightest push.

“We will.” Merlin glances around the room wearily, but Arthur’s fingers on his chin angle his face back towards him, and then he’s looking Arthur in the eyes again and it’s too much.

Merlin steps closer, easily closing the gap between them. He feels as if he has nothing to lose, no matter how much he may hate himself for it the next morning- he anchors his hand in the light fabric of Arthur’s shirt, wrinkling it slightly with his grip.And then he leans in, eyes linked with Arthur’s, giving him a chance to pull back.

Arthur doesn’t pull back. In fact, he tugs Merlin closer and their lips collide almost desperately. Merlin gasps against Arthur’s mouth and Arthur threads his fingers into Merlin’s hair- slowly, almost reverently, as if he’s been waiting to do this. After everything, this is why Merlin pulls back.

It doesn’t fit. Merlin has loved Arthur, most likely for longer than he’d ever admit- but Arthur doesn’t love Merlin. Arthur will never love Merlin, and he has always known this.

“What was that?” Merlin asks, stepping back and almost tripping over a chair.

There is no retreat or look of disgust- or even worse, betrayal- like Merlin had expected. Instead, Arthur’s mouth curves into a smile, one that Merlin hasn’t seen for quite some time.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he promises again, but this time Merlin’s heart is open and he sees the look in Arthur’s eyes, the same feelings that he has been having this whole time. His vision clears and he can finally see this Arthur- his Arthur- instead of future-Arthur.

He takes a breath, looking at the crease in Arthur’s shirt and the mussed state of his hair, and the way Arthur is staring at Merlin with that promise still in his eyes.

“Together?” he asks.

“Together.”


End file.
